


Good night, sleep tight

by Tashilover



Category: Endeavour
Genre: Crack, Dream Sequence, M/M, dub-con?, erotic dream, naughty stuff in the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 20:44:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2787149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tashilover/pseuds/Tashilover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'That boy needs to get laid,' Thursday thought mutely.</p><p> </p><p>A crack fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good night, sleep tight

Morse pressed his hands up against the cold, stone walls of the prison cell. His palms were sweaty, making the grime and dirt smear across his flesh. A small part of him wanted to stop, to go and wash his hands, but the bigger part refused to move.

He was mutely aware this wasn't real. It was too dark in this cell, the door was facing on the wrong side, and he would never, ever do something like this. It felt real enough.

The mouth on his ear suckled and licked, alternating in between, determined to drive him out of his mind. It would give him a moment of relief by kissing down his neck, pulling back the collar of his shirt to mouth his shoulder, only for the lips to crawl back up, and reattached themselves to his earlobe.

When the tongue lapped at the spot right below his ear, he cried out, his whole body shuddering in pleasure.

"Shh... I got you..."

He knew that voice... he _knew_...

"Sir," Morse gasped. "I..."

"Shhh..." His head was pulled back and the lips fell upon his, kissing him gently. A hand snaked down his front, grasping at his belt. "I got you," Thursday said again as his fingers undid the clasp. "I got you."

 

 

 

 

 

With a startled cry and his arms flailing, Morse shot up straight in bed. Sweat poured down his forehead. The phantom feel of hands and lips was still on his skin, touching him, asking him to go back to sleep to return to that bliss.

Too overheated to care, he shoved back the covers, pushed himself out of bed and stumbled through the darkness into his bathroom. He slapped on the light, and went straight to the sink, turning on the cold faucet on full blast.

He shoved his hands underneath, then bent down, splashing the freezing water over his face and neck. When the water hit his ears, his sensitivity shot through the roof and he jerked back, cursing. A delicious tingle went down his back.

He had to be at work in three hours.

Well, _fuck_.

 

 

 

 

Thursday swore Morse was purposefully avoiding him.

On occasion there would be days in which Thursday and Morse never cross paths in the office. Either Thursday was too busy with paperwork, or Morse was running himself ragged with general duties. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence, but today something was... off.

Morse would duck into another rooms when he saw Thursday coming down the hallway. He would turn his head away to avoid eye contact, intentionally knock items off his own desk to bend down and search for them whenever Thursday walked past.

When Thursday searched him out, wanting to know if Morse wanted to have lunch with him (like they usually did) the boy was nowhere to be found.

Finally at some point, Thursday had enough. "Jakes, tell Morse to come to my office."

Jakes nodded, and as he turned to leave, Thursday added on, "In fact, _escort him here_. I don't want him suddenly disappearing on me."

Usually Thursday tried his best not to involve other people in his personal scrabbles. The way Jakes paused slightly, his eyebrows raising in surprise, Thursday knew rumours were going to _fly_.

A minute later Morse came to the office, Jakes in tow, one hand on Morse's arm guiding him.

 _He tried to run,_ Jakes mouthed to Thursday. With a grin, he stepped out of the office and closed the door. He crackled loudly in glee.

Even now, as Morse stood there in silence, his eyes were elsewhere, staring at some spot behind Thursday.

"You've been avoiding me," Thursday said. "Why?"

Morse swallowed. "I haven't, sir-"

"You're a terrible liar. I am not going to ask again, why have you been avoiding me? You're acting like a school boy who was caught stealing from the cookie jar."

"It's... it's nothing, sir. It's... ah, a moment of embarrassment for me. Nothing more."

There was a hint of blush creeping on Morse's cheeks. He still refused to meet Thursday's gaze.

Thursday studied him for a second longer, debating if he should drag the answer out of the lad. He huffed and said, "Fine. You can leave. But whatever it is that's bothering you, I suggest you get over it and quickly. I am not going to play tag with you all day. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Alright, you're dismissed."

He watched Morse leave, noting how awkward his walk was, how stiff his shoulders were. Once the door was closed, Thursday groaned and leaned back into his chair, reaching into his pocket for his pipe.

 _That boy needs to get laid_ , he thought mutely.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Доброй ночи, сладких снов](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3240839) by [ptycster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ptycster/pseuds/ptycster)




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